


Double Exposure

by snowshroom



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Drug Abuse, Endgame Ereri, Explicit Language, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sexual Content, Slow Build, endgame winmin
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-11
Updated: 2015-08-20
Packaged: 2018-04-14 05:09:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4551759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snowshroom/pseuds/snowshroom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The film adaptation of Erwin and Levi's memoir is underway, and Levi's none too pleased with their casting--up-and-coming Armin Arlert, who may or may not have appeared in a porno once, and Eren Jaeger, the infuriatingly gorgeous, scandalous, broken superstar.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be a one-shot, but it got away from me. Dark themes in later (and hopefully longer) chapters. Call this an intro, I guess? I hope you enjoy it! I would love some feedback!

Since that dickwad Erwin had ratted Levi out as the coauthor of _No Regrets_ —their shitty writing therapy memoir with its shitty melodramatic name—the film crew had mistakenly assumed that Levi gave two fucks about the upcoming movie adaptation.  Levi did not, in fact, give two fucks.  He gave maybe half a fuck, and that was only because he was getting royalties.  The night he'd finally caved and signed the contract, he made Hange Zoe, the producer, cross-their-heart-hope-to-die _never_ try to involve him in the project again.

Erwin Smith had no heart to cross, and had made no such promise.

The stick-up-its-ass restaurant itself wasn't a tipoff.  Erwin was always dragging him to pretentious eateries with thirty-dollar appetizers and silk napkins folded into roses.  But Levi should've realized something was wrong when he saw the queue, because a) the lunch specials at the Garrison weren't all that great and b) who the fuck wanted to visit a café called the fucking Garrison, anyway?  Only when they were at the door did Levi note with sudden, bleak horror that the sidewalks were crowded exclusively with squealing teenage girls.

"The fuck?" Levi demanded.  He tried to backtrack, but Erwin blockaded him.

"Don't worry.  They're not here for you."

"I know that.  I'm a nobody.  I'm _strategically_ a nobody.  Who are they here for?"

"For whom are they here," Erwin corrected automatically.

"Erwin, I am going to punch you in the asshole."

"I look forward to it."  Fucking pervert probably meant it, too.  Erwin shouldered his way through the horde of sobbing girls and held one of the glass doors open, smiling the kind, chivalrous that Levi didn't trust for an instant.  Levi weighed his options: he could face certain death inside the café, probably prefaced by agonizing pain, or he could stand outside with the screaming children.

Teeth clenched, Levi stepped into the café.

He spotted their lunch dates immediately and threw a passing maitre d' ahead of him as a meat shield.

 _Actors_.

No way.  No thanks.

Levi vaguely recognized the blond boy from that slasher film about the naked mutants—his character had been cannibalized; that was pretty awesome—but the other one?  The kid in the green aviators and the ratty brown sports coat?  That was _Eren fucking Jaeger_.  Jaeger Bomb.  E-Jaeg.  The kid was still making headlines for his latest fistfight, during which he'd kicked someone off a balcony into a swimming pool.  He had more misdemeanors than acting credits.  Sure, there had been that one Academy Award nomination when he was twelve, but these days it was all tabloids and forgettable action flicks and flipping off the paparazzi.

Most infuriatingly, nothing he did could ever decrease his popularity: rap sheet aside, Eren Jaeger was _gorgeous_.

Levi swallowed hard, not entirely in anger.

"What do you think?" Erwin prompted.

"About what?"  Fuck, Jaeger was laughing at something now, straw still caught between his perfect white teeth.  Levi growled so loudly that a nearby hostess flinched and dropped a pile of menus.  "I told you I wanted nothing to do with this, Erwin.  That includes rubbing elbows with Young Hollywood."

"They begged Hange to meet us."

"God help them.  _Why_?"

"They wanted to research for their roles."  Erwin raised his eyebrows meaningfully.

Levi's mouth went dry.  Double no way.  Triple fucking cherry on top no way.  These were their movie counterparts?  Eren Jaeger as Levi Ackerman and Baby-Faced B-Lister as Erwin Smith?  Assuming that the casting director had any brains at all.  If the cherub was playing Levi, Levi was going to change his name to Lucy and move to Turkmenistan.  "Who—"

"Eren Jaeger is young Levi and Armin Arlert is young Erwin."

"Well, thank Christ."  Wait, no.  This was still shit.  "Not that I'm not, uh— _flattered_ on some fucked-up, narcissistic level—but could they have taken more liberties?  Mini-You looks like he should be filming slow-motion yogurt commercials, and Mini-Me is an angry, violent, antisocial berserker."

"Ideal casting," Erwin agreed, and took Levi's punch in the shoulder like a champ.  "Ouch.  Case in point.  They're professional actors, Levi.  I'm sure they'll do a fine job, especially if we give them some insights to work with."

"I'm not opening up to those brats!"

"Then sit there and scowl.  If anything, it'll better inform Eren's performance as you."  Then, without warning, Erwin lifted a congenial hand to hail the boys from across the room: "Good afternoon, gentlemen."

Eren and Armin glanced up from their menus.  Armin lit up instantly, leaping to his feet as they approached, but Eren stayed slouched in his seat, appraising them over the top edges of his sunglasses.   Neither he nor Levi smiled as Erwin and Armin warmly introduced themselves.  Armin, Levi noticed, offered Erwin his left hand to shake instead of his right.  Kid had apparently done his research.

"It's such an honor to meet you both," said Armin, eyes shining with excitement.  "I can't count how many times I've read your book.  I don't think a text has been so formative for me since—"

"'Hop on Pop?'" said Levi.  The kid looked like he was twelve.

Armin blinked.  "Um, I was going to say 'Finnegans Wake,' but 'Hop on Pop' is a classic, I guess."

"C'mon, Armin, don't let this grumpy old fuck condescend to you," said Eren, not even bothering to lower his voice.

"Yeah, and who the fuck do you think you are?" Levi demanded.

Eren smiled his beautiful smile, draping one arm protectively over the back of Armin's chair.  He tucked his aviators into his front pocket.  Fuck, he had nice eyes.  The screams outside redoubled.  "You know who I am."

Levi hesitated just a beat too long to credibly refute that claim.  He seethed.  He and Erwin hadn't sat down yet; it wasn't too late to walk away.

"Let's start over," suggested Armin brightly, after a loaded pause.  With passive-aggressive sarcasm, he pretended to notice them again.  "Why hello!  You must be Erwin Smith and Levi Ackerman!  It's a pleasure to meet you.  I'm Armin Arlert, and this is Eren Jaeger."

"Hello," Erwin began indulgently, but Levi interrupted him with, "Jaeger?  Aren't you the dumbass who tried to hide in a Porta-Potty to avoid a DUI?"

An even heavier pause.

"I just flew in from London," said Armin in the same sweet voice.  "I haven't slept in two days.  Please sit the fuck down."

Erwin and Levi found their seats rather quickly.

A blushing waitress arrived to take their orders.  Eren just grumbled for Stoli, and he didn't get carded, despite everyone in North America knowing that he'd just celebrated his nineteenth birthday by skinny-dipping in a park fountain.  Amazing what a little money and a nice ass could get you in this country.  Armin asked for some spinach thing with strawberries in it (after a dozen questions about potential chemical fertilizer and pesticide contamination) and Levi ordered scotch, up.

"Can I see your ID, please?" asked the waitress.

"I'm thirty-four," said Levi.  "You must be shitting me."

She wasn't.  Levi had to go digging through his shabby wallet to find his driver's license, and Eren Jaeger smirked at him the whole time, arms crossed over his chest.

"Have you and Armin worked together before?" Erwin asked as an icebreaker, once they were alone again.  "You two seem close."

"Yeah!"  Eren gave a lock of Armin's hair a fond, gentle tweak.  "When I was like six, I was doing a cereal commercial, and the other kid kept peeing himself.  Armin's mom was a camerawoman.  The director had Armin fill in for him, and it worked out super well because he'd just lost his front teeth.  Fuckin' adorable."  He turned to Armin.  "'Count Colossal Crunch!  So good, it's scary!'"

"'Tastes like boo-nanas!'" Armin replied, giggling—and stopped short when he saw Levi's grim expression.  His cheeks turned red.  "It was cuter when we were kindergarteners."

Erwin, of course, looked genuinely charmed.  "And you've been friends ever since."

"We're in it for the long haul," Armin agreed.

Well, good gosh golly.  Levi swirled a finger in his water and weighed the risks and benefits of vomiting into the complimentary bread basket.

This was fucking weird.  It was like sitting across from younger, better-looking, undamaged versions of himself and Erwin.  If these kids actually had any acting chops—he'd have to re-watch some of their films to see—they might be able to pull this off.  Levi had written off the whole production as a box office disaster the day Hange had approached him, but Erwin seemed enthusiastic, and he was usually the first to dismiss unworthy investments.  He wasn't the type to fawn over celebrities, either.  Although, Levi grudgingly admitted, if he _were_ to make any exceptions, it would probably be for these two knockouts.

As Erwin chatted with the boys, Levi studied them with a little less hostility.  If Armin cut his hair and favored certain angles and mannerisms, he could be a dead ringer for a younger Erwin (though Erwin would never admit to having once been that dainty).  That'd probably been why Armin was cast.  He was nowhere near as high-profile as Eren.  And speaking of Eren—well, maybe if he punched himself in the face, didn't sleep for seventy days, and shrunk eight inches, he could play an all right Levi.  He certainly had the rage for it.

Not that they were comparable at _all_ , because fuck that.  Levi wasn't a spoiled little bitch who wore sunglasses indoors.  But allowing for that glamorous Hollywood disconnect—maybe, just _maybe_ —

"Levi?"

Levi blinked.  Everyone was staring at him expectantly.  "Huh?"

"Armin was asking you how you feel about there being a movie in the works," said Erwin.

"Oh."  Levi's brow furrowed.  Honestly, he hadn't felt anything at all until today.  "I don't know.  I didn't want any part in this.  Erwin tricked me into coming here."

"Yeah, no shit, but how do you feel _now_?" Eren probed, without aggression.  He was eying Levi with genuine interest.  Levi stalled with a sip of water, suddenly self-conscious.

"It's—it's kind of a cruel joke.  It's exploitative.  It makes me sick thinking about the creative liberties that'll be taken; hell, that've _already_ been taken—" he gestured vaguely at Eren and Armin, their young, pristine, innocuous beauty, "—and I don't fucking appreciate feeling that way.  We're actual people.  We're no one's fucking narrative construct.  But somehow—"

He hesitated, and they waited for him, not speaking.  It was a strange sensation, being seen and heard this way.  He stared at the tablecloth.

"If this thing ends up having any taste at all, or any sincerity, it might—do some good.  Not for the world, fuck the world.  I mean, for me.  And for Erwin.  Because if it gives us a starting point for finding even a little bit of closure—I don’t know.  Maybe that could be okay."  
  
Wow.  He sounded like a fucking moron.  This was why he didn't talk to people.  The waitress returned with their drinks, and Levi tossed his back in one neat swallow, trying to cool the painful heat rising in his cheeks.

"That's—a pretty badass outlook, Levi," said Eren at last.

"Yeah.  Hilarious," said Levi, glaring.

"No.  No bullshit.  Like, exploitation is par for the course in this business, and you and Erwin are stuck at the ass end of it here, so it's good to know that you're distrustful.  You should be.  This isn't just a sad story to you guys.  You lived it.  _Live_ it."

Levi met his gaze suspiciously, analyzing his expression for any hint of sarcasm.  He didn't find any.  Eren stared back at him, unsmiling.

"I realize that we're young and fortunate, and can't understand what you and Erwin experienced," Armin said into the silence.  "I'm sure you feel trivialized by our casting.  I know I would.  But Eren and I are going to treat this project with utmost respect, professionalism, and gratitude.  We read the book long before there were plans to turn it into a movie. It was all we talked about for months.  When Eren heard that Hange bought the film rights last year, he called up his agent and begged for an audition."

Eren glowered at his drink.  Somehow, that was a more authentic confirmation than if he had actually nodded.  It was Levi's move now, and Erwin turned to him with a pleasant 'if you act like an asshole I will shit in every corner of your bedroom' look.  Levi debated between three dozen potential replies and settled for one on the kinder end of the spectrum.

"Just make sure you get a ripped body double," he grumbled to Eren.  "And Arlert, I liked your death scene in that shitty Pound of Flesh movie."

"Oh my god, you watched that?" Armin whimpered.

"This is too pleasant a day to spoil with gruesome talk.  Let's just get to know each other a little better," said Erwin, neatly diverting the conversation away from cannibal movies and—Levi noticed—their own sordid history.  Eren and Armin had read the damn book, after all.  The kids knew exactly how fucked up Levi and Erwin were, and had revealed almost nothing about themselves.  Turned out Erwin was being as cautious as Levi was, just with more finesse.

"Yeah," said Eren, sitting up straighter.  "Yeah, sure.  What do you want to know?"

"First of all, the rumors about the size of your dick," Levi began.

Erwin kicked him hard under the table.

Eren grinned wickedly, leaned over, and whispered directly into Levi's ear: "True."

Levi signaled the waitress for another scotch.

*

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Levi engages Erwin in some hanky-panky, meets Starfish, and does more laughing in twenty-four hours than he has in his entire life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: reckless driving, language, smoking (cigarettes), mentions of alcohol consumption, mildly sexy things, age differences, cryptic dialogue--I think that's it. Thank you for reading! Please let me know what you think.

Levi dumped his laptop, six DVDs, a string of latex condoms, and a bakery box full of muffins onto Erwin's bare chest.

"Get dressed."

"What the hell," Erwin mumbled, struggling to sit up beneath the pile of offerings.  "What—"

"Don't crush the muffins!"  Honestly, the man was fucking impossible.  Levi snapped the curtains open and set to work airing out the bedroom, deliciously musky with Erwin's dark, heady sleep-scent.  "I called in for you at work.  I think we can get through their key filmography in about thirty-nine hours if we don't formally break for meals.  Ugh, wait, you need a shave and a shower.  Forty hours, then, but no longer.  Some of us actually have lives."

Erwin groaned in what sounded like physical pain, fumbling his reading glasses off of the nightstand to peer at one of the DVD covers.  "'Eren Jaeger in Jump the Gun: Reloaded.'  You purchased all of their movies?"

"Hell no.  I grabbed what I could find in the bargain bin at Costco and pirated the rest."

He dragged his pillow over his head.  "Go home, Levi."

"If you will notice I've brought condoms—"

Erwin lifted the pillow from one ear.

"Haven't had a good dicking in a while, so I figured we could fool around on your couch a little.  Recreate our shitty fumbling teen years."

"Put on a pot of coffee," said Erwin after a moment of consideration, sitting up.

"Already brewed.  We'll start with Arlert's cannibal flick.  I liked that one."

He couldn't hold back a small, wry smile as Erwin shuffled toward the bathroom.  It was a joke that they could both appreciate: they'd actually met in their early twenties, already fucked-up and fucked-out, well aware that it was too late to start anything truly soft or innocent or beautiful.  As it was, Levi was finally finding some peace with the mildly-antagonistic-friends-with-benefits thing they had going.  It worked for them, in a fond, rueful sort of way.  God knew the sex was unbelievable.

As he set out the coffee, Levi wondered how many other men and women Erwin had invited over throughout the years.  He knew about Darius and Mike—had been there watching Mike, actually; that'd been a delectable evening—and he suspected there were a few hookers now and again, maybe even some dinner dates.  They'd never discussed it.  Sometime after the incident, Erwin and Levi's shared meals had stopped being amatory.  As if they had to close at least one of the doors between them before they ruined each other.

And—that was fine.  Better that they come out of this intact.  It didn't matter that Erwin was still Levi's first and last lover.  Levi had always preferred window shopping, anyway.  And Eren Jaeger and Armin Arlert were a lot of fun to admire.

Levi and Eren had ended up getting fucking sloshed at lunch yesterday.  They had something like seventeen strong drinks between the two of them.  Levi was pissed at himself for getting caught up in Jaeger's dick-waving contest, but the brat was so _smug_ , so inordinately beautiful—and Levi had ultimately won by waiting until he was in Erwin's car to puke.  Age before beauty, bitch.  Jaeger totally blew chunks in the restaurant bathroom.  Looked fucking spectacular again by the time Armin walked him out to greet his retinue of screaming women, but whatever.  It wasn't a fucking swimsuit pageant.

Arlert, by contrast, was exquisite in that sort of potentially-evil-porcelain-doll way.  He was simultaneously softer and harder than Erwin, probably just as academically intelligent.  Erwin had seemed quite taken with him in a way that barely managed not to seem egotistical.  After Levi had finished barfing in the car, he'd asked Erwin point blank if he'd fuck Arlert.

He paused at the counter, frowning.  He didn't remember how Erwin had replied.

"Clean enough?" said Erwin, emerging from his bedroom smelling green and handsome.

"That'll do, pig," said Levi, straightening.  He passed Erwin a coffee cup.

Erwin sipped, grimaced, and swapped mugs with Levi.  "You take yours so bitter."

"You just said a mouthful there.  Want your prosthetic?"

"Not particularly."  He kissed the top of Levi's head on his way to the couch.  "I assume from your sudden interest in mainstream cinema that you're intrigued by this project."

"Hard not to be when filming is starting in, what, a week?  Two?"

"Ten days.  I figured you'd feel a little better hearing the details once it was properly out of your hands.  Less temptation to storm into Hange's office and dispute your characterization.  Which is quite generous, by the way.  They're even cutting that part about you punching the orderly."

"But that was the proudest moment of my life."  Levi hesitated with his hand on the TV remote, eying Erwin sidelong.  It had finally clicked for him.  "You wanted to be involved for the same reasons I didn't."

Erwin's reply was slow and careful: "And what reasons were those?"

"Because it'll make us face it.  Because stepping back means being able to see the exact moment where everything went out of our control, and that fucking hurts."

The two of them finished drinking their coffee in silence, sitting needlessly close on the wide sofa.  Once Erwin had drained his mug, Levi rested his head against Erwin's residual limb, the bicep still handsome and familiar.  "We going to start this shitty marathon or not?"

"Press play," said Erwin.  Levi could hear the smile in his voice.

They enjoyed some light petting as they sat through Arlert's gorefest, chuckling too often to get hot and heavy.   Armin was playing the dumb blond.  Talk about typecasting.  He had an especially great scene where he dramatically broke an ankle.  Levi couldn't say that the kid's acting was _good_ , precisely, but considering the source material, his mostly un-annoying performance was a fair accomplishment.  Erwin put on one of Eren's earlier films as a palate cleanser.  It was a quiet drama about a young musician whose father had lung cancer.  A solid three stars.

"You don't think he really played that cello, do you?" said Levi.

"I doubt it," said Erwin.

"He seems like more of a tromboner."

"You mean 'trombonist.'"

"No, I mean 'tromboner.'"

They watched two more of Eren's recent movies (mediocre shoot-'em-ups with a lot of sweaty shirtless scenes; neither of them complained), broke to order Thai, and ate curry and kai yang to Arlert's independent film about a dysfunctional family of florists.  Arlert had a small but important role as a delivery boy.  He was about eleven then, all blue eyes and dimples and armloads of calla lilies.  It was a little too cerebral for Levi's tastes, but Erwin yammered on and on about the symbolism of the ground-ivy as he popped the last physical DVD into the player.  It was a teen romance starring Eren Jaeger and Mina Carolina.

Levi expected to groan through the whole thing, but for such a banal setup, Eren's work was impressive.  He had incredible charisma, honest and unpretentious.  Delivery was excellent.  Good diction, cliché lines that he salvaged with pure intensity.  He even had a fade-to-black sex scene that got Levi a little frisky.

"Let's make out," Levi suggested as the credits rolled.

"All right," Erwin said, voice heavy with false reluctance, and they necked viciously for a good half hour while the DVD menu looped shitty piano glissandos.  Fuck, Levi could kiss Erwin for the rest of his life and die happy.  During their brief stint of formal dating, Erwin could get Levi off just by pressing their tongues together.  They finished each other with lazy handjobs, then Levi hooked his laptop up to the TV for more mediocre, illegally downloaded movies.

That's when shit got _really_ interesting.

"What is this?  This is low-budget as fuck," said Levi, watching the shaky cam follow some muscled repairman's ass as he descended a staircase.  "Okay, Smith, explain _that_ symbolism."

"Each cheek represents a different carnal desire," Erwin said promptly, startling a snort out of Levi.  "One buttock is his repressed homosexuality—see how he clenches in anticipation?—and the other embodies his burgeoning potential for satisfactory anal intercourse."

"You're so full of shit."

"Unfortunately, so is he.  Oh, _my_ —"

Onscreen, Armin Arlert was leaning over a Bentley convertible, soaping the hood clean in tiny denim cutoffs that barely contained the pert swells of his ass.  When the repairman approached, Armin looked up through long, demure eyelashes.  "Are my pipes clean?" he asked, voice pitched higher than the speaking voice he'd used at yesterday's lunch.

"Yes, honey," said the repairman.  "Like brand spankin' new."

"They've been leaking for days," said Arlert.  "However can I repay you?" 

"This is a _porno_ ," said Levi.

"Don't be ridiculous," said Erwin.  "It's—an art film."

Armin traced his lips delicately around the mouth of the dribbling hose, letting the water trickle down the curve of his throat.

"This is a _porno_ ," said Erwin.

"Holy shit.  Holy shit!"  Levi was wheezing with laughter for about the first time in twenty years.  He leaned forward to kill the video, partly to check Arlert's birth date—thank Christ, he had been eighteen at the time of filming, albeit barely—and partly to run the title through Google.  It was fucking called 'Home Sweet Homo.'  Armin's name had popped up in few speculation threads, but most of the cast lists credited someone named Starfish Slamkowski.  Levi's eyes were watering.  He snatched Erwin's cell phone off of the coffee table and began scrolling through his contacts.

"Don't," said Erwin, realizing belatedly what he was up to.  He grabbed for his phone, and Levi literally kicked his hand away, barely composing himself enough to speak when Arlert picked up.

"Hello?" said Armin eagerly.  "Mr. Smith?"

"It's Levi, actually," Levi said.  "May I please speak to Starfish?"

Armin screamed right into the receiver, loud enough that both Levi and Erwin flinched back.  Erwin looked torn between remorse and enchantment.  When Levi put the phone back to his ear, he could hear Armin wailing wordlessly, and Eren's terrified voice in the background going, "Jesus fuck, Armin!  _What_?  What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Armin moaned.  Then, to Levi, in a breathy hiss: "It's a _look-alike_!"

"It's a look- _identical_ ," Levi corrected.

"Th-that wasn't—I d-didn't—"

"We turned it off, but out of curiosity, how explicit does this get?  Do you go bareback?  Do you actually fuck onscreen?"

"It's not _me_ , Levi!  Eren, please, just—can I _please_ be alone for a second—" a door closed somewhere in the background, followed by Eren dropping muffled f-bombs and Armin dropping c-bombs of the 'cripes' and 'crud' variety.  When he returned to the phone, his voice was low and agonized: "It wasn't a paying job!  I was just having some fun! I was dating them at the time, see, and—"

" _Them_?"  Levi was fucking delighted.  "Eren and the repairman?"

"Of course not!  Eren doesn't know about this; don't you _dare_ tell him!  I meant the repairman and the pizza delivery boy!"

"The pizza delivery boy?"

Armin paused.  "Wait, how much did you watch, exactly?"

"There is also a pizza delivery boy," Levi informed Erwin, whose expression was staggered in the most aroused way possible.  They laughed for a little too long, leaning against each other.  "Jesus, Arlert.  And here I thought you were boring."

"I am!" Armin insisted.

In the distance, there was a loud, shuddering _bang_. 

"Crap, Eren just kicked down the door," said Armin in the second before Eren swept the phone out of his hands and yelled, "The _fuck_ are you saying to him, old man?  He's upset!  He's all red!  I'll fucking sue you shitless for harassment!  I have my lawyer on fucking speed dial!"

"Of that, I have no doubt," said Levi.  He was finally getting a grip.  He pushed himself upright and rubbed at his teary eyes, struck suddenly by inspiration.  "Hey, let's hang tonight.  All four of us.  Let's just go somewhere quiet and shoot the shit."

"What?"  Eren sounded completely lost, and Levi couldn't blame him—aside from one or two quick, resonant moments, he and Levi had spent most of their last lunch antagonizing each other while Armin and Erwin blah-blahed about postmodernist theatre. Levi was fairly sure he had drunkenly vowed never to speak to them again.  "You drunkenly vowed never to speak to us again," said Eren, clearing that up.  "What changed?"

"I have decided that perhaps you and Armin are human beings," said Levi.

"Wow, what a revelation.  Fuck yourself in the ass with it."  But Eren sounded thoughtful.

He covered the mouthpiece, and he and Armin conferred in light tones, Armin's voice full of mortified laughter now that he had calmed down.  Levi and Erwin glanced at each other in the following silence.  They were still kind of slumped together.  Levi smiled at Erwin, quick and tentative, and Erwin smiled back.

"Actually," said Eren, returning to the phone, "I do have an idea."  
  


*

  
The address Eren gave them led to an empty parking lot just outside the city limits.  Sparse streetlamps and cracked pavement, something lonely about it.  Land so flat that Levi could see straight down the road until it blurred away in the distance.  "This is it.  This is where they're going to kill us and hide our bodies," said Levi, but he understood immediately: Eren had purposely invited them here after sundown.  "They're filming the bonfire here, aren't they?"

"Our last hurrah," said Erwin.

"'Hurrah,' my ass.  It was a fucking rampage."  Levi let his eyes sweep the lot, trying to imagine it populated with his peers, all their shitty cars and poor-kid shoes and loud, young laughter.  Someone had already spray-painted the cast's marks on the asphalt.  If they crammed the lot full of oil drum fire pits and boozed-up extras, it might just serve as a passable set.  There was even a convenience store across the street that they were refacing to look like the one in Trost.  Still too clean, though.  Levi supposed that Hollywood made everything beautiful where it wasn't supposed to be.  He didn't know whether to feel indignant or grateful.

Eren and Armin were already sprawled across the hood of Eren's Jag, feet dangling over the front bumper.  The license plate said _jaegrrr_ , and it had an iridescent teal paint job the exact color of Eren's eyes.  A thin stream of cigarette smoke crawled toward the dark sky.  Levi assumed it was Eren until he saw Armin prop himself onto one elbow to light up again.  He smoked menthol Kiss Superslims.  His mouth looked very small and pink around the blue filter.

"Disgusting habit," said Levi as he and Erwin approached.

"I know," Armin groaned.  "Want one?"

"Yeah."  He put one between his teeth and leaned in to catch the flame of Armin's lighter.  "This is the gayest cigarette I've ever seen."

"One of my many tactical affectations so the A-listers don't eat me alive.  I may buy fast food and ride the bus, but I do it in Valentino."

"Who the fuck cares about impressing those pricks anyway?" said Eren.

"I do," said Armin.  "I have to advertise.  Not all of us can make paparazzi candids look like glamour shots."  He ruffled Eren's hair, and Eren grunted, but didn't move away.  Levi realized that he was likely seeing the brat in a rare, unguarded moment, out of the public eye and cuddling with his best friend.  He looked different with his jaw unclenched.  Eren rolled over into Armin's lap to gaze up at Erwin and Levi.

"So, this is the first scene we're going to be shooting," he said.  "Does it look anything like the real place did?"

"Needs more smog and used condoms," said Levi.  "Not bad, though."  He actually felt nostalgic for his old stomping grounds, shitty as they were.  He gestured to the corner with his cigarette.  "There was a chain-link fence over there with old chewing gum stuck to every junction.  And some idiot fucked up the stenciling.  The fire zone said 'no praking.'  Remember, Erwin?"

"Vividly," said Erwin, smiling.  He rested his hand lightly on the small of Levi's back.  Levi allowed it.

Armin hesitated.  "Is it weird for you, seeing what they're trying to recreate here?"

"There is a dissonance to it," Erwin admitted.  "It isn't upsetting, if that's what you're asking."

"Unless you tell us differently, we're gonna play it pretty upbeat," said Eren.  "When Armin and I read the book, we felt like—like maybe this was the last truly lighthearted time for you guys.  Ugh, I mean, we know it's not that simple, and we don't really know shit about you or anything, but—it's a fucking beautiful chapter.  I think about it a lot."  Eren's mouth began curving into an impish smirk.  "Did you really try to shoplift that entire display of Hostess cakes, Levi?"

Levi hadn't actually reread their collaborative manuscript before their therapist swept it up and sent it to the publisher.  He turned around and punched Erwin in the chest so hard that he staggered.  "You fuckwad!  You put that in there?"

"It was the highlight of the evening," said Erwin.

"How much of it is true?" Armin blurted, as if he'd been holding in the question for years.

"Oh, aside from some inexact dialogue, all of it.  The only lies in it are by omission."

And that changed the atmosphere.  Armin quieted, letting his cigarette burn down, and Eren shook his head almost imperceptibly.  Levi realized then that it wasn't a reassurance, maybe, to hear that there had been details that hadn't made the cut.  How much had the book covered, anyway?  Levi had written exactly four of the eighteen chapters, all of them in a sort of self-deprecating, portentous tone—things that they might've done to save themselves, mostly.  Retrospection.  Only one of his excerpts took place during the actual trauma, and he'd drafted it more to supplement Erwin's narrative than anything else.

The writing had really helped Erwin.  Given him back some of his focus, his clarity.  Levi didn't benefit from reliving it, but he owed it to Erwin to fill in the gaps.  The man had been unconscious for almost three days after he lost the arm.

"It'll be tricky starting with this scene," said Armin presently, breaking the silence.  "Lots going on simultaneously.  They're using some inventive blocking to get all the principles in the same shots."

"It's not just you and Jaeger?"

"No, it's about every named cast member, plus a hundred extras.  I know some of your friends weren't actually at the bonfire, but apparently it's good for the pacing.  I hope that doesn't change too much."

"It would've been nice to have everyone there that night, wouldn't it?" Erwin asked Levi.

"Yeah."  He'd have danced with Petra until dawn, maybe urinated off the edge of a roof with his boys, as dictated by tradition.  "Who's playing who?"

Armin clapped his hands together.  "Myself aside, it's a star-studded cast.  Connie Springer is playing Gunther, Jean Kirstein is Oluo, Marco Bodt is Eld.  Oh, and Historia is playing Petra!  Her stage name is Krista Lenz—have you seen her in anything?  She won a Golden Globe last year for Best Supporting Actress.  God, she's brilliant.  They all are.  I think they're going to make you proud."

"Yeah, Jean recently did a TV adaptation of Seabiscuit," said Eren.  "He played Seabiscuit."

Armin kicked him.  "Be nice."

"The names sound familiar, but I can't picture their faces."  Levi shrugged at Erwin, assuming he knew of all the young actors by now.  He wondered how Petra, Gunther, Oluo, and Eld would react to their movie likenesses.  "Are they any good?"

"They're excellent.  We'll have to add their films to our marathon."

"Oh, is that what you were doing this afternoon?" said Armin, cheeks reddening.  "Watching movies?"

"Until we got sidetracked, yeah."

"Which ones?"

"Well, we didn't really get to the meaty stuff," said Levi, with a slight, pointed emphasis on 'meaty' that made Armin squirm and hastily light a new cigarette.  "We watched the cannibal slasher, the romance with Mina Alabama, the second and third 'Jump the Gun,' the flower one—you were a cute kid, Arlert—oh, and the music one.  With the cello and the dad and yeah."

"What did you think?" asked Eren, trying to sound like he didn't care.

Levi hadn't pieced together his conclusions yet, distracted as he'd been by seeing Armin in those booty shorts.  He thought about it now—the intelligence in Armin's eyes, even in those ridiculous roles, his sweetness and potential and somehow dangerous brightness.  Eren's raw talent and magnetism.  The fury of him that fueled every line and gesture, layered on thick to compensate for something dark and tender.  If anyone could make Levi and Erwin's pitiful, unromantic dysfunctions seem compelling, it was these two assholes.

"I was impressed," said Levi at last, shrugging.  "And I'm glad you can be what Erwin and I aren't."

"Which is what?" Eren persisted.

"I don't know.  Fictional?"

For some reason, both of them were looking at him with some fondness—Eren's grudging, Armin's kind and knowing.  Levi flicked his dead cigarette across the lot.  Armin whined in protest.

"Don't litter."

"Just lending your set a little authenticity.  It's way too clean."

After a moment, Armin hesitated, dropped his cigarette too, and stood up to grind it beneath his heel.

"Oh, you bad boy," said Levi.

"I'm on a slippery slope.  Hey, there was one more location we wanted to show you.  Eren?"

"Oh yeah!"  Eren sat up, shaking his head to get his hair out of his face.  "Yeah, it's actually really close.  It's a rest stop down the road."

Erwin and Levi glanced at each other.  Nothing significant in their lives had ever taken place at a rest stop.  "Okay, _that's_ where they're going to hide our bodies," said Levi to Erwin, then turned to address Eren and Armin.  "What is this?  Are you succubi?  Are you planning to take advantage of us?"

"Don't sound so excited.  Also, we are portraying _you_ in a movie based on your _lives_ ," said Eren.  "I think that the 'taking advantage of you' ship sailed a long time ago."  He gave his keys a seductive little twirl.  "Coming?"

Between the soft quality of light from the streetlamps, Eren's mussed hair, and his sexy fucking wheels, Levi was prepared to follow him off the edge of a cliff.  He stared at the smooth, shiny lines of the Jaguar again.  It was only a two-seater.  Fuck it.  "Only if I get to ride with you," said Levi.

Eren looked startled, then pleased.  "Yeah!  Fuck yeah!  Armin always makes me drive at the speed limit."

"If cops ticketed you like they should, you would have fifty-seven points on your license since yesterday morning," said Armin.  "I've been counting."

"Go with Erwin and navigate, then, you fucking square."

"I will!  And I will enjoy not having to bargain with God!"  Armin spun on his heel and stalked toward Erwin's car.  He and Eren sounded honestly irritated with each other, but in that resigned, best friends way.  They'd probably be fine by the time they reached the other set.  Levi took a running start and slid across the hood of the Jag, leaping into the passenger seat without opening the door, because opportunities like this didn't come along every day.  Thankfully, Eren burst out laughing instead of throwing a temper tantrum.

"I had the hood ornament removed just so I could do that, too," he said.

"More often than not, he misses the car entirely," Armin called over his shoulder.

"Armin's last vehicle was a hail-damaged minivan," said Eren to Levi.  "He cannot understand."

"I will say kind things at your funeral, Levi," said Armin.

"Fuck you, Armin!  Oh, man, Levi, if we get a head start, I bet we could lap them twice around the block before they get there!  Let's go, let's fucking go!"

Suddenly wound up, Eren hopped behind the wheel, jammed the key into the ignition, and peeled out before he'd even turned on his headlights.  Zero to seventy in four and a half seconds.  Levi was hurled flat against the back of his seat, groping frantically for the safety belt.  He was so fucking glad he'd already taken a shit.  They left Erwin and Armin behind in a literal cloud of dust, coughing, and Levi was strangely aware that the sound of his screaming was probably fading comically in the distance.

"You're a fucking maniac!" Levi yelled, when he'd caught enough breath.

"Right?" Eren shouted back gleefully, barely audible over the roar of the engine.  He was slapping eagerly at his dashboard, coaxing the car along faster.  "Last time I did this to Armin, he peed himself!"

"I can't imagine why!"

This was how he was going to die: in a fire-engulfed two-person coffin painted Pimp My Green beside Eren Jaeger as Levi Ackerman, what a fucking joke _that_ was, while Erwin and Armin smugly puttered up behind them in Erwin's ten-year-old Cavalier.   Levi closed his eyes and let the wind lick through his hair.  He wasn't sure why he was grinning, but his teeth felt cold and gritty, and when he finally looked over at Eren, Eren was beaming right back at him.  He had sharp, mischievous canines, like a kitten.  His eyes seemed to emit their own light, lucid green, as if diffused through a bottle of Perrier.

"What the fuck, don't look at me!" Levi screamed, waving his arms.  "Watch the fucking road!"

Eren took that as an invitation to bear down even harder on the gas pedal.  Levi almost went ass-up in his seat; he had to grab at the window frame to hold himself upright.  Eren whipped into turn after turn, tires screeching, and they actually _did_ lap Erwin and Armin once en route to the rest stop—and Erwin gave Levi the blandest, most pleasant smile as they passed by.  Bastard.

Before Eren screeched to a halt, he reached into Levi's lap to check that his seatbelt was fastened.  Levi nearly leapt out of his skin.  Eren kept his hand there as he braked, hauling the Jag into wide curve that sprayed sheets of dirt into the air.  The car thrummed, then stilled.  Levi was shaking like a leaf.

"Again?" asked Eren excitedly.  His cheeks were flushed from the wind.  He slyly let his pinkie finger stroke the inseam of Levi's trousers, and Levi slapped him away.

"Never," said Levi.  "Never again, _ever_.  Unlock this door."

"Never locked it!"

Levi exited the car.  His wobbling knees gave out completely with his first step, but he bounced right back up to his feet again, trying to pretend he didn't just assplant.  His heart was hammering with adrenaline.  What he wouldn't give for one of Armin's gay little cigarettes.

When Eren was finally done laughing like he was fucking possessed, he crawled across the central compartment and hoisted himself out beside Levi, draping an arm around his shoulders.  Levi tilted as far away as he could without actually giving any ground, but Eren just dragged him back, squashing his face against his chest.  Levi grunted.  The kid smelled like sweat and smoke and overpriced cologne.

"You know, you're not what I expected from reading the book," Eren commented.

"In what sense?"

"I thought you'd be more, like, _outwardly_ fucked up.  I mean, clearly you're a fucking mess, but you hide it well."

"Well, you're exactly as fucked up as I thought you'd be," Levi replied.

"But hotter, right?"

Before Levi could even think about how to respond to that, Erwin's car rolled up to a gentle stop beside them, and the two of them turned to look.  Erwin made a huge show of languidly turning off his headlights, setting the parking brake, and straightening the adaptive steering wheel that allowed him to drive one-handed.  Armin stepped out with an equally theatrical stretch, looking calm and self-satisfied.

"Ah, what a relaxing ride," he said.  "Erwin and I discussed Stanislavskian affective memory.  He agreed to visit us at rehearsal on Saturday.  You're more than welcome to join us, Levi."

"Why, thank you, Starfish," said Levi in the same amiable tone.

The smile slid right off of Armin's face.

"So, what is this shit?"  Levi stepped forward to examine the rest area.  It was a small concrete building with a circular driveway, ladies' restrooms on the left and gentlemen's on the right.  Looked like it hadn't been cleaned in about four hundred years.  "This is fucking disgusting.  What could you possibly be filming here?"

"Oh," said Eren, his voice bright.  "This is where Armin and I are shooting the blowjob scene."

"The what?" said Erwin.

"The _what_?" said Levi.


End file.
